Traitor
by Cat 2
Summary: An Invitation to the opening of a Museum in France distrubs ghosts of the Past and Leads Iron man to btter understand Steve's objections to the Registation Act. Bethany Cabe investigates an decades old Murder Mystery.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Marvel Entertainment owns everything, with the exception of Cat who is my own creation and various others who I will indentify as this progresses. This is a work of fanfic, no

copyright infringement intended.

Author's note: this takes place after Civil war, but before Secret invasion.

Traitor.

_(Flashbacks_

**Speaking in French.)**

"Never let anyone say that a mutant with a healing factor can't get tension headaches." Cat thought, forcing herself to stand up and walk around the cramp confines of the aircraft. Her head, neck and back felt like they were on fire.

"You O.k.?"

The voice belonged to Bethany Cabe, Starks' security chief for his business.

"Headache." She grunted in reply. A small part of her that wasn't aching laughed. She was getting more like Logan every day.

"I've got some..." Bethany began, but Cat cut her off.

"Drugs have no effect on me."

"I'm sorry," Bethany started, but Cat cut her off.

"Don't be." She walked off. Bethany sighed.

"Well that went well." She observed sarcastically to the room.

"Could have gone worse." Carol Danvers, Ms Marvel observed, looking up. "Cat's just in a bad mood at the minute. She'll bite anyone who speaks to her head off."

"Why?" Bethany asked. "I thought she was pleased about the trip."

Carol shifted uncomfortably.

"The invite was for Cat, SHIELD and the Avengers. However it was... tactfully understood that by SHIELD, they meant Nick Fury and by Avengers they meant Steve." She paused for a moment to restore her composure.

"But it didn't say that." Bethany pointed out.

"That's what Tony said." Carol replied. "He and Cat had a huge row on the subject, which ended with Cat informing him, that if he persisted in coming then she would make his life as complicated as possible."  
"She serious?"

"Deadly." A voice replied. Carol cursed herself for not noticing that Cat had left her book on her seat when she left. She now stood there, gazing at the pair of them.

"Cat," Carol began, but cat held up her hand.

"Carol. Don't. Or I'll say something I won't regret." She collected her book and left.

Bethany stared after her.

"Like I said," Carol observed, "could have gone worse."

_France 1943_

"_Sometimes," Mimi said, pouring a glass of wine. "I don't think the war will ever be over." She gazed around Cafe René. The cafe was closed, but the resistance fighters had gathered there to discuss their plans._

"_Don't be daft." Bucky said, taking a swig of cola._

"_Yeah!" Cat said, sipping lemonade, "if nothing else both sides will run out of young men to die."_

_It was a poor attempt at a joke, and received the reception it deserved._

"_The German's reckon," she continued, taking another a sip, "1945, for this to be over."  
"Cept they reckon they'll be in charge." Bucky said, chuckling softly._

_Mimi smiled as well, pouring a beer, which she slide across the table. Logan caught it._

"_You sure you haven't had an enough?" Timothy "Dum Dum" Dugan asked._

"_He's a Canuck, Dum Dum," Fury growled. "They're born with nipples on their beer bottles"_

_Laughter this time was sincerely and heartfelt._

"_Can tell you why René worried about the war ending." Logan growled softly. "He's worried he'll lose his best customers!"_

_How it happened, Cat wasn't sure. The tampering of various governments and the passage of time made sure of that. But somehow it was agreed that they would all come back in 65 years. _

Cat had forgotten about it, if she was perfectly honest. She had been reminded about a week before the Secret war blew up, by a letter on her desk. René was inviting them all to celebrate their 65th anniversary, and to attend the opening of a museum dedicated to the war years of Nuvian.

She bit her lip as she thought of the years since that invitation.

Steve dead, Nick and Logan underground, a mutant registration act! About the only good thing she could think of was Bucky coming back to life.

Still, no matter where they were, Cat was sure, whatever Dum Dum and Stark thought, that Logan and Nick would be there. And she knew something else.

That for supporting the Superheroes registration act; René would make Tony life as difficult as possible.

Cuddling that thought against her chest, she settled down with a nod to Dugan, and willed herself to sleep.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I thought," Natasha Romaffo, a.k.a. The Black Widow said, "That it was traditional to play the American anthem on these occasions."

"Yep!" Cat replied, grabbing her bag from the hold.

"So why...?"

Cat chuckled.

"When America first entered the war, Madame Yvette, the female head of the resistance, asked for the America national anthem. Nick, for a joke, told her it was Yankee Doodle." She smiled and shrugged. "It stuck."

Stepping forward, she walked up to René. The years had added grey to his hair, but apart from that he was still the same man she remembered, small, plump and balding. She stepped into his embrace, but kept her knife pushed up against his stomach. She was not going to be squeezed. There was an expression of shock.

"**You couldn't have told me?" he muttered, kissing her cheek in greeting.**

"**Consider it pay back for '43" she replied.**

**They switched cheeks as she asked softly "the others?"**

"**Arrived yesterday." He frowned slightly. "Some people are punctual!"**

"**Don't blame me," she said, stepping back and out to do her piece. "C'est la guerre"**

Switching back to English with barely a pause she continued. "Monsieur Martin, may I present Antony Stark, Director of SHIELD. Monsieur Stark, May I present Monsieur René Martin, Mayor of Nuvian."

Stark winced, at her flat refusal to use his title, but his face was plastered with his professional smile.

"Monsieur René. It's a pleasure to meet you."  
"I wish I could say the same." René muttered, but both smiled for the camera.

"Before we begin our tour of the museum, the councillors and I have prepared a meal. Shall we?" he held out his hand and led the way. Cat got a small smile, as she fell in line with Dum Dum. Suddenly he came to a stop.

"My god." He muttered. A woman was making her way through the crowds. Or possibly more accurately the crowds parted to let her pass. White hair hung almost to her waist. Eyes a pale blue. A sense of unearthliness about her.

"Madame Jeannette." Dum Dum muttered, shocked.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I can't believe it." Dum Dum declared for about the hundredth time.

"We're going to have to watch when we leave. That plant is looking distinctly tipsy." Cat observed, sipping from her own glass.

"Cat!"

"What? Why are you so surprised? If her husband couldn't kill her, I don't see why 65 years should have."

He shook his head again, gulping his beer.

"Have to hand it to René, he never skimps on food," she paused as a bell began tolling. The effect of this simple sound was incredible. Everyone in the room above the age of sixty frozen. Those below it looked merely confused.

"Sainte Stephen bell begins to toll, Lord have mercy on his soul." Cat said hoarsely. She appeared to pick up on the confusion on the faces of the avengers and Stark, for she continued.

"It's the Judas Bell. Left over from when Nuvian was a garrison town. It was rung to warn the town people of deserters, traitors, ect."  
She paused, seeming to tense while she counted the strokes.

"Three times for a deserter. Five for a traitor taken alive." She swallowed. "Seven for an execution."

She turned to René.

"I thought it was agreed as part of the rebuilding not to fix that bell."  
"It was." René muttered, his hands searching his pockets, though whether for heart medication or his rosary Cat couldn't tell. "And it was done. There's no rope to pull that bell. There's no way on the good lord's earth for anyone to ring it now."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 2

"It's very cosy."  
"Being an Avenger's spoilt you, Carol." Cat observed, standing in the doorway. "An armoire, a chest of draws, a bed and a desk, what more does any agent need?"  
"How about a light?" Bethany asked.

"Got electricity haven't we?" Cat said laughing. "You forget the last time this place was occupied was 1940's. Black out regulations and electricity out 4 nights out of 5." She shrugged. "We made use of candles or oil lamps."

"Where are you staying?" Bethany asked.

"Floor below." She led the way down. The room was even smaller than the ones above, containing the same furniture, but there was almost none of the oak wood floor visible. The floor was covered in a series of brightly coloured rugs.

"Made from a mixture of kaki, Nazi uniforms, Prison camp clothes and I think there might even be some of an American flag in there." Cat said, smiling. Noticing the expressions on their faces, she continued

"This place was used as headquarters, ironically, for the league of German Womanhood. In other words Nazi sectaries, female members of the armed forces, radio operators and plotters. It was also used as the main base of operations for the resistance." She shrugged. "We had to get rid of loads of materials, from captured prisoners, rescued POWs and concentration camps and parachutists. This place was as cold as hell in winter. So the rugs made sense."

She sat down on the bed.

"This was my room back then." She said more softly "yet I hardly recognise it."  
"How come?" Bethany asked, fighting a rising tide of exhaustion. Try as she might however, she couldn't stifle a yawn.

Cat grinned. "Jet lag catching up with ya. That's for tomorrow and Rene's stories then. Go get some rest."

"Night." Bethany said as she and Carol made their way up the stairs.

"Night." Cat replied. She waited until their footsteps had died away. Then she made her way over to the biggest rug in the room, with a swastika on its surface. Gently she pulled the rug away and knocked 3 times on the floor below. There was a pause then three knocks answered her.

She nodded softly. They were all safe.

_the past_

"_You will tell me what I want to know!" the man leant forward, his dark eyes boring into the man tied to the chair. His red hair and the shrapnel scar across his right cheek made him look like a devil from hell._

"_You will talk!"_

_The man tied to the chair stared back. His face was beaten and though his open black shirt a variety of bruises could be seen. Despite this it was still with a degree of pride that he shook his head._

"_Nein! Nie!" he gasped out._

"_One way or the other, they all do." The man's smile was as nasty as they come. He turned around. The room was packed, but his eyes rested on a girl of about 13 or 14 standing against the wall, near the door._

"_**Did you get one?"**_

_The girl nodded nervously._

"_**Bring it here."**__ She glanced desperately at the other men who were standing around. They made no sound. She vanished briefly into the tunnel and returned carrying a cage. A huge, thin rat with huge yellow eyes gazed out at them. At the sight of it the man began to struggle desperately against the bounds. The man stared down at him, a look of pure pleasure on his face._

"_**Bring it here." **__He repeated. The girl made to shake her head, but he fixed her with his dark eyes and her courage failed her. She handed the cage over. _

_The man spoke a few phrases in rapid French. A long pipe was brought and pushed up against the stomach. Someone approached bearing a candle. The man made to open the cage, when_

"_It ain't got nothing to do with them." The speaker was male, in his prime, with black hair and blue eyes, which were at that moment rested on the girl and a boy of a similar age, who stood with their backs against the wall._

"_Back off Logan."_

"_It ain't in their brief. It ain't their case. It's got nothing to do with them."_

_The man made a dismissive gesture with his head, his attention entirely on the prisoner._

_Logan turned to face the kids._

"_Got a couple of rabbits this morning sweetheart. You best go get them ready for the pot." His eyes despite their coldness were kind. "You go help her kid." Both looked like in any other circumstances they would have protested. Now they nodded and hurried off._

"_Now will you tell us?" the man repeated, his attention on the prisoner._

_The prisoner seemed to have gained strength during the exchange as he shook his head._

"_Nie!" he said firmly. The man shrugged. _

"_On your own head be it." _

_As the children made their way along the corridor a horrifying scream echoed around the house._

Logan sat bolt upright, the sweat dripping off his back. It took nearly 3 minutes for his breathing to calm.

"This is a weird old house." Bethany thought as she made her way along the darken landing to the shared bathroom. The house creaked and groaned; so that she was convinced she'd wake someone.

She shook her head.

"It's just an old house." She repeated to herself. The events of earlier, first Dum Dum strange reaction to that mysterious old woman, then the bell. They had upset her. That was why the house felt so strange.

She suddenly realised that the corridor had become lighter. The bathroom door was open and light was pouring out into the corridor.

Fear made her quiet, as she approached the door.

Cat was kneeling in front of toilet bowl, heaving. She was shaking like a leaf and sweat soaked her back.

Bethany began to step forward, but before she could the retching passed and cat leaned back, her head laid against the cool porcelain. Her eyes gazed out, tears falling down her cheeks.

Something told Bethany that if she step forward, made any attempt to comfort cat that she would lose any chance of finding out why this was happening. She had read Cat's records and knew she was a mutant with a healing factor, which meant that there was no way this was due to alcohol or drugs.

She also knew, though she couldn't say how that it was all connected. This house, with its strange noises, Dum Dum's mystery woman, the bell and Cat's sickness. She just had no idea how.

In bathroom Cat's gasp rang out.

"Please," she whispered to someone only she could see. "Not again."


	3. Chapter 3

I own nothing.

Chapter 3

"You got the touch." Cat said, as Bethany entered the huge old kitchen.

"Excuse me?" Bethany asked. She was still sleepy after her nocturnal ramblings.

"The touch. I didn't hear you till you hit the stairs. You must have crossed the Nightingale's floor without making a sound."  
"The what?" Bethany repeated.

"The nightingale floor. It's the nickname that corridor that your rooms on got. It's made of sprung yew, so every time anyone steps on it, it "sings", hence the nickname. It's very hard to cross the floor without making a sound. I only know about 3 or 4 people who could do it."

She shrugged, stirring the pot. "Guess you make it 5"

She paused suddenly, and a few seconds later Carol entered the kitchen. There was no obvious change in Cat's demeana, but it was evident that the friendly chat they had been enjoying was over, as she said, "we need to get going."

As she turned her attention back to the stove she added "coffee's in the pot."

* * *

"the tour begins here in Cafe René" the town historian and museum curator, a woman who, as Cat said in an undertone to Dugan, looked like she would have only been a gleam in her grandfather's eye when the war started. "We have done our best to reconstruct everything to the exact way it looks in these pictures," she indicated the framed photographs that lined the walls. "However the cafe presented more difficulties, as the only photos in existence were those taken by the occupying forces, and so do not paint an accurate picture of the cafe during it's after hours use. As a result we have relied greatly on the memories of our mayor, Monsieur René Martin." A splatter of polite applause broke out.

"So that explains it," Cat said in an undertone.

Dum Dum nodded, "was thinking don't remember the cafe looking so respectful."  
"Skirts were never that long." A Frenchman standing next to him observed softly.

"How do you mean?" asked Carol. Cat seemed to have relaxed enough to have forgotten her bad mood with Carol, for she answered quite friendly,

"René cafe was a dive! It's "after hours uses" were extremely unrespectable before the war. And During" she shook her head. "In fact there were only two reasons to start with it received any patronage."  
"Which were?"  
"Booze was cheap and so were the girls."

Bethany made her way around the cafe, examining the photos. There were a large variety, some showing the town as it must have looked into the occupation, some showing how it looked after liberation, but most were of the Resistance Fighters. Some showed them huddled around the cooking pot in a forest campest setting. There were a couple that showed them performing acts of Sabotage, and one, presumably taken after the liberation, that showed them gathered in front of René cafe.

There were also photos of the notable allies of the time, including a truly beautiful one of the Invaders, sprawled upon a grassy bank. They all looked very relax, hard to believe from their expression that there was a war on. Two or three photos showed the Howling Commandos. One showed them simply standing with the Invaders. There was another that showed them lounging on the same bank, with Bucky and Captain America and another who Bethany was prepared to swear was Cat.

"We were so young," Cat had left Carol and Dum Dum and wandered over to join her.

"How old were you?" Bethany asked. Cat shrugged.

"What's the year?" she asked, leaning in to examine the caption on the photo. "1942? Bucky would be 16 and I was 13."

Noticing the expression on Bethany's face, she shrugged. "**C'estait la guerre"**

Bethany nodded, uncertainly, and returned her attention to the final photo of the commandos. They were being greeted by a man and a woman, who Bethany was almost certain she recognised. However it was the photo beneath it that caught her eye.

The photo had been taken in a room that bore a resemblance to a hospital room. There was a table, on which sat Bucky Barnes. His shirt was off, and his T-shirt vest had its right arm rolled up. Cat stood a partly unwrapped bandage in her hand. She gazed at the camera, her mouth partly opened, in what was clearly an attempt to tell the photographer to get out. There was anger in her face, but also a less well defined emotion in her eyes. The expression in her eyes was mirrored in Bucky's. She shook her head. You thought of Bucky being killed, boldly fighting for his country, but you never thought of the number of times he must have been hurt or shot at.

Slowly she turned her attention back to the guide, trying not show how badly the picture had affected her.

"Suddenly the sound of footsteps echoes though the air. It's the Germans!"

Suddenly Cat and Dugan were no longer there. The guide however was leading them though a door that had appeared as if from nowhere.

The room was completely pitch black, with the only light coming from filthy window.

Slowly as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, the room's layout became clearer. There was a table and a chair. The table was covered in maps, printed on silk handkerchiefs and an old radio set. The wall was covered in strange markings.

"What's this?" Bethany asked, coming over to examine it.

"It's a Calendar." Carol said, coming up behind them. "Or possibly more accurately a record of time spent in here." She moved her fingers over the markings. "The shorter marks indicate days. When you have seven of them, you make a mark, so that you know you've been there a week."

"A paperclip saved my sanity," Bethany muttered. The sentient belonged to a resistance fighter, though she couldn't remember which one.

Carol nodded. "Cat and Logan taught me that when I was still green in the field. Ross took me to them, and introduced them to me as the toughest agents he knew, and asked them to teach me how to survive captivity. I wasn't keen and neither where they." She shook her head. "The first time I was locked in the dark, it was only for 2 hours, but to me it could have been days." She shook her head. "They were excellent teachers. The longest I've been held in the dark was nearly 4 weeks. Then they broke me out." She smiled sadly. "They also taught me another basic rule about our game, "although you tell me I shall die, you say not how or when or why." John Betjeman." She smiled. "That's among the reasons; I think that Cat and Logan are so opposed to the act. And "she added calmly, "why I highly doubt Stark will beat them."

The guide opened the door, to re-enter the cafe. Cat and Dum Dum were sitting at the bar, drinking a glass of water.

"Hey." Cat said, holding up her glass, "enjoy your stay in the oubliette?"

"Excuse me?"

"The oubliette. It's the name that used to be for a hole in which prisoners in castles would be left and forgotten about in total darkness." She shrugged. "It was where the resistance started, but as numbers increased camps were set up in the forest, and we used the catacombs as a base."  
"Which are the next stops on our tour" the guide cheerfully interrupted

She led the way behind the bar. There was a small trap door in the floor. Steep steps led down into darkness.

Slowly and carefully, they descended. Bethany jumped as a hand grabbed her arm.

"Sorry." A female voice with a British accent said in her ear. "I'd forgotten how claustrophobic it was down here."

Bethany had to agree with the woman. They had entered a tunnel, lined with corrugated steel, "flinched from provisions for bomb shelters" according the guide. It was wide enough for two or three people to stand side by side, but it would be a squeeze. It was about as high as a man's head.

She said as much to the woman, who held her hand out.

"Elizabeth Millar. Former SOE Operative."  
"Bethany Cabe." Bethany muttered.

"Cabe. Cabe. No the name rings no bells. Was you mother here?"

"No. No." Bethany said, laughing. "I'm the head of Security for Stark industries." A thought occurred to her. "I wonder if you could help me."  
"I'll try." Laughed Elizabeth. Bethany was merely relieved that she didn't seem to bear the dislike that many did, seeing her relationship with Stark Industries and therefore Tony Stark as a betrayal of Nick Fury, their comrade in arms.

"Dum Dum Dugan, you know him?" when Elizabeth nodded, she continued. "He was surprised to see a woman who he called Madame Jeannette. Can you tell me who is?"  
The expression of surprise on Elizabeth's face mirrored Dum Dum's.

"Jeanette Emillia?" she demanded. "God! I thought she must be dead. Course I know her. She was the wife of Paul Emillia, the leader of the resistant."

"I thought René was leader of the Resistance?" Bethany asked, confused.

"René led the resistance 1943 to '45, during the worst times. Paul Emillia started the resistance and led it until '43."

"What happened to him?" asked Bethany.

Elizabeth sighed. "I arrived in France in November '43. Paul had been dead for nearly a month. The resistance was in virtual chaos. René had just taken control." She shook her head, "I gained the impression, but it was nothing more definite than that Paul was killed by the Gestapo." She shrugged. "It happened a lot."

Bethany nodded. She followed the guide, though the tunnel into a room, with camp beds lining the wall. All were covered in red blankets. A table that Bethany recognized from the photo of Cat and Bucky stood in the centre of the room.

"The hospital wing." The guide declared. "Where the sick and injured were brought. How many airmen, how many brave men of France, were treated here? How many heroes of France lay upon these very beds?"

"She's elaborating a bit." Cat observed softly. "And it was never this clean. We'd scrub for hours, but the damp, the mould, it would always come back." The sadness in her voice was definite, and Bethany remembered reading that Cat was a trained Field medic. Had this been where she received her training, and if so how many had that child watched die?

The guide had her hand upon the door of the next room, but René stopped her.

"There was an incident, a few nights ago. Neo Nazi broke in. We have not yet repaired the rooms." The guide looked confused, but René with a masterful step that Bethany was sure she'd seen some where before, led back out into the corridor.

Bethany wasn't quite sure how it happened, but she fell in step with Natasha Romanov. Natasha, like Cat was usually as cool as they came, but she was becoming agitated, and as René laid his hand upon the door of the next room he intended to show them, she began screaming.

"No! N! Mustn't го in there. Not сейф. Off limits. No го!"

onfused, Tony, who was just in front of them reached out to touch her, but Natasha turned and bolted back up the corridor. Bethany made to go after, but Cat stopped her.

"I'll go." She said. "Like Natasha, I know what's behind that door."

* * *

Natasha crouched low between the beds, hugging her knees in an attempt to stop the shaking. Slowly, though her terror, her adult mind took over, but it was not enough to make her get to her feet.

"Nat?" a voice called softly into the room. "Natalia?"

Cat crossed the room, and in an instant her arms were around the ex KGB agent, holding her and rocking her while she cried. It didn't last long, but it was nice while it did.

Slowly the Black widow disentangled her and got to her feet.

"Did I just...?" she asked, groaning as Cat nodded.

"In front of everyone?" again Cat nodded.

"Its O.K. trust me. I think they'll have more important things on their plate, after that room. Shall we see if they've finished in there?"

Natasha nodded.

"Oh Cat?" she said as the British agent got to her feet.

"Yeah?"

"While I was hiding there, before you came I could have sworn I saw Logan."

Cat grinned. "Eyes playing tricks on you, poppet. How and why would Logan be here?"  
Natasha nodded.

* * *

The resistance forest camp had been built amidst the ruins of an old priory, where the tunnel came out. It was very basic, literally a tarpaulin tied between some trees to keep the water off and a hearth with cooking pot hung over it. Blankets lay against the ruined wall on the ground to provide beds. Here and there the personality of the occupants showed though. A menorah partially hidden under a blanket; a copy of the communist manifesto; very well read, a letter in Spanish; a photo of family pinned under a rock; a rosary.

Other less peaceful signs, also forced their way though. A collection of items, that Bethany knew could be used to make a bomb, lay near the fire; a gun stood leaning against the wall; a partially finished Newspaper, Libèration-Nord, lay next to what might have been a radio set.

The feeling was very much that they were the intruders. That the true occupants of this camp would return any second. She couldn't help it, she shivered.

Possibly she was not the only one to feel uncomfortable, as the guide swiftly led them up a grassy bank. However that if anything was worse.

In a clearing of the woodland, white crosses stretched as far as the eye could see. Like the huge cemeteries at Ypres, each cross had a name, dates and a small flag carved upon it.

"How" Bethany was surprised to hear Carol swallow "how many are there?"

René turned with sad eyes to face the two women.

"2,523." He said, softly like each number made him relive the pain of each death. Bethany opened her mouth to say something comforting, but the roar of thunder made that impossible.

* * *

The fire crackled and blazed in the grate, bathing the room in a soft glow. After the storm had broke, everyone had retreated here, to the main hall of the Town Hall. They all stood, either near enough to the fire to dry off sodden clothes or near the refreshment table, where a warming broth and whisky stood to fend off the cold. The huge windows allowed the views of the horrendous storm.

"Rain like the war." Cat observed, "The first one I mean. Or at least's that what the old ones used to say." She sipped the broth and gazed around. "Last time I was here, was in the middle of a storm like this."  
"Really?" Bethany asked, curious.

Cat nodded. "I was an undercover agent. By day, sectary to General Gabler, Head of counter espionage. By night, I was medical officer to the resistance and an SOE officer." She smiled. "It was about 9:30 at night when suddenly..."  
A huge clap of thunder echoed outside, and the room was plunged into darkness.

"The lights went out." Cat observed drolly in the dark. "Except I think that time it was the result of a bombing raid, rather than the storm." She moved silently over to the table on which stood the buffet. There was a sound like a drawer being opened.

"Thank heavens for the consistence of the government in this area." She muttered, moving over to the fire. Slowly she slipped a candle out, until it caught the light. She began passing them out.

"Need to two strong volunteers." She said. "There's a backup generator in the cellar."

Carol began to get to her feet, but Cat spoke up, "Sentry, Ares you'll do."

She glanced at René,

"Last used what '70's?" as René nodded, she shrugged, "be rusted up pretty badly."

She walked out the room, handing the candles back to Natasha as she passed.

They waited in silence, little groups forming around each f the candles, while the storm raged outside. Bethany sat nervously next to Tony and Maya. Suddenly the huge French windows flew open, the wind sending the curtains flapping like an ill-bred bird. Tony and Dum Dum got up and battle, forcing the windows to shut. Natasha moved quickly relighting the candles that had been blown out by the wind. As she made her way to the big wall at the back she froze.

"Мой бог" she whispered. Bethany, along with Tony and Dum Dum moved over to see what had disturbed Natasha so much. She too just stood there.

Suddenly the lights came back on.

"Found the problem." Cat said, coming in through the door. "Wasn't the storm, someone's been messing the fuse box..."

She trailed off at the sight of everyone staring at her. And at the sight of, in huge blood red letters, the word TRAITOR painted on the wall.

"What on earth...?"  
"Don't play innocent!" Tony Stark all but snapped at her. "You did this"

"Excuse me?"  
"You've made your feelings regarding the act and its enforcement abominable clear on a number of occasions."  
"Yeah." Cat said, but with a note in her voice that made most SHIELD Agents with draw from her reach. "So why would I feel the need to paint it on the wall?"  
"Beside which," she continued, not giving Tony a chance to answer. "I've been with Sentry and Ares, trying to restore light."  
"Why's your hair wet then?" Stark demanded.

"Because to reach the generator you have to go outside! God! You can't' seriously think that I...?" she froze, her face a mask of fury at the expression on Stark's face. "You do!"

The thunder roared ominously in the silence.

Cat's breathing was very fast.

"Fine." She said her voice full of quiet fury. "You want my resignation Stark? You've got it. In fact you've had it five times. You want me disciplined? Colonel Flashman arrives on the noon boat, you can speak to him! No Dum Dum!" she snapped, as the huge man moved to interrupt her. "I've put up with a lot here. I've sacrifice my principles, I've hunted my friends. I've watched you turn this proud organization into a laughing stock. But you know what?" she was digging in her bag now, withdrawing her SHIELD Pin. "I've had enough. You want to destroy the world, go ahead. I'm done."

As she flung her Pin at Stark, She turned and headed for the exit. René stepped out, one hand extended to stop her, but she shook her head.

"René. Don't." She said, as she stepped out into the night.

tbc


End file.
